


Young Gentlemen

by gentlezombie



Category: Le Comte de Monte-Cristo | Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
Genre: Crossdressing, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-02
Updated: 2011-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-14 08:19:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlezombie/pseuds/gentlezombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eugénie and Louise's lives have changed for the better, but all conflicts have not been resolved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young Gentlemen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [El Staplador (elstaplador)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elstaplador/gifts).



_To Mademoiselle Julie d’Armilly, Paris, France_

 _Dearest sister,_

 _There is so much to tell that cannot possibly be conveyed in a single letter! My heart is about to burst, with joy or fear, I know not, but ever since I left with Eugénie, our life has been a whirlwind of events I never thought myself capable of withstanding._

 _You have, of course, heard of our escape and discovery in Compiegne, for Eugénie tells me it was a favourite among the Parisian society. Oh, it was a dreadful day; but I find that the experience made me realise how futile it is to try to fit ourselves to the expectations of others, when even the most innocent discordant note can destroy everything._

 _I am afraid Eugénie is still rather shaken by the shame of that incident; or perhaps not shaken, for I would not use so frail a word to describe her, but she is consumed by a cold anger that I know not yet how to dispel. She is like a queen, my Eugénie, but I am afraid she will hurt herself and her art more than anything else by her withdrawal._

 _We have settled in Brussels for the time being; of our final destination neither of us have any knowledge yet. We have a contract for the season with a small theatre company which, although not a fulfilment of our ultimate goals, serves well in getting us acquainted with that mysterious world this far denied to us. I might add that we did not need the Count’s recommendations to get the contract; we thought it better to earn a name for ourselves under our own power before approaching the grand operas of Naples or Venice._

 _Do not fear for us, little sister; after all that has happened, I am confident in our ability to overcome any obstacles in our path. I believe, too, that I shall be able to reach Eugénie. What kind of a friend would I be if I could not?_

 _With all our love,_

 _Louise_

***

Eugénie lifted her eyes from the piano as her companion stormed into their music room with uncharacteristic disregard to the myriad little items and music sheets scattered about the floor. Indeed, there was a spring in little Louise d’Armilly’s steps and a colour on her cheeks that reminded Eugénie of pale pink winter apples, and her usually fastidiously braided curls had escaped to frame her heart-shaped face like the tangled locks of a mischievous nymph. She was carrying an armful of clothes.

“Louise, what in the world are you doing?” Eugénie asked, curious despite herself.

Louise placed her burden into one of the armchairs.

“I thought we agreed to renew our wardrobe,” she replied sensibly. “I started by going to the tailor and getting you something decent to wear. Come on, let us see if the measurements are correct.”

Louise held up a white linen shirt, which Eugénie at a glance recognised as a men’s shirt.

“I will not wear one of those again,” Eugénie said coldly and turned back to the instrument, the scene at the Bell and Bottle tavern still all too vivid in her mind.

“Not even if I asked you to?” Louise asked, placing her small hand on her friend’s forbidding shoulder.

“I am done with such childish fancies.”

“But I am not!” The words were spoken with such force that Eugénie turned again to stare at her companion.

“You will stop locking yourself up with your wounded pride, and you will dress as a man again and walk the streets at whatever hour you like, for we both know that is what you wish, and it is my wish as well.”

There was a note of anger in Louise’s voice Eugénie had never heard before, a passion she did not find unpleasant in the least. Who could resist a plea delivered in such a manner, revealing the fiery core in a soul previously thought sweet and tame? And yet, and yet... The memory of the absolute humiliation burned hotter.

“I will not,” she said, finally.

She expected Louise to leave the room, offended. She did not expect the slow smile very much unlike anything taught to the daughters of the society.

“I shall have to wear it myself then,” Louise said. “For it would be a shame to waste such fine garb.”

And with precise twists of her fingers she opened the laces and slipped out of her dress and chemise. She picked up the white linen shirt and started to button it up with determination, even as she reached for the trousers. Eugénie, who had seen her friend dressing every day, who had indeed helped her undress more than once, took in the way the shirt hung from her narrow shoulders, the sleeves covering her delicate wrists, and could not help herself.

She rose from her seat and, stepping behind Louise, said: “Let me help.”

Perhaps her fingers lingered on Louise’s small breasts, perhaps Louise leaned back against her more firmly than necessary, as Eugénie did up the buttons and laced up the trousers, and with the surety of experience tied the cravat around Louise’s neck.

Eugénie looked at the pair of them in the mirror, Louise still small and light although newly boyish in appearance, and she herself with her short, black hair and angular face, her arm around Louise’s waist.

“The clothes fit you,” Eugénie whispered.

Louise, whose cheeks were burning now that the anger had left her, shook her head. “They would fit you better.”

“Would you not wear them for me, for a while?” Eugénie’s dark eyes met Louise’s in the mirror, and as always, when Eugénie looked at her like that, Louise felt that her friend was capable of anything at all, and she would be compelled to follow.

“I would, if you promised to do what I asked of you earlier.”

“I promise.” Eugénie brushed aside her curls and kissed the back of her neck. “In truth, it is no hardship.”

A promise. Louise smiled, let herself be guided towards the bedroom by the stronger pair of arms, let even the neckcloth stay in place for the night when that was requested of her.

She was a gentle person and not accustomed to fighting, which made her savour this small victory all the more.

***

 _My dear Julie,_

 _Our life has been so very exciting over the past weeks that I have not had the time nor the concentration to sit down and write an account of it all. But fear not, dear sister, I have not forgotten you!_

 _Our progress has been rapid now that Eugénie is again her spirited self. You can hear it in her singing and in her playing, and I see it every day in the music sheets strewn over every surface of our home, filled by her hand. I cannot bring myself to care about the disorder, for to me it is the natural state of things, a certain sign of her happiness._

 _There is a new sensation in the music halls of Brussels: a certain Monsieur Julian Corbet, quite the master of the piano, whose dark looks and needle-sharp wit are every bit as sensational as his playing. With a little more discipline, I dare say the opera houses may take notice of him. I freely confess my prejudice, for this gentleman has entered not only the stages of Brussels but our lives as well, and I have to admit that I have been spotted on his arm on numerous occasions._

 _Perhaps we will play together, one day, on the grand stages of Europe, for I know that our lives are destined to twine together._

 _Your loving sister_

 _Louise_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I managed to spice up Louise's character a little. I enjoyed writing this, and as I'm sure you noticed, Dumas's style is infectious...
> 
> In my head-canon, Eugénie also plays the piano (although singing is what she really excels at), but when I skimmed through the book again, I couldn't find a reference to that. Well, at least in my imagination she's a singer with a secret identity as a male piano virtuoso. It's not like she isn't brilliant enough to do both! Now I feel tempted to write more about these two, because it's a shame that they are such underappreciated characters.


End file.
